With Silent, Lifting Mind
by Unveiled Creativity
Summary: KalEl gazed once more at the infinite space, the beautiful silence he had sought often. He’d try to rescue all of them, he really would. If only they knew he was trying his best… Clark laments over a broken world. Oneshot.


**Author's Note**: Hey! Saw _Superman Returns_; absolutely loved it. I thought Brandon Routh continued the role of Superman pretty well. This is a short one-shot I thought of after watching the scene where Superman's floating in space, listening to the world. Not the same scene, though. This could happen post - _Superman Returns_. Hope you enjoy it!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Superman or the poem I am about to quote. J

"Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth….

Up, up the long, delirious burning blue

I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace…

…with silent, lifting mind I've trod

The high untrespassed sanctity of space…"

- From _High Flight _by John Gillespie Magee, Jr.

With Silent, Lifting Mind

He soared, brushing the icy clouds with his fingertips, racing the cool breeze that occasionally blew past and bore him higher. Arms outstretched, he embraced the only empty support that kept him suspended and spiraled up from the massive expanse of land beneath his feet. No one could ever grasp the pure exhilaration of flying. No one could understand the surge of adrenaline tingling his limbs as he dashed headlong down a quiet side street, gaining momentum as he shed his normal clothes, and in a single bound, defied gravity. All he had to do was leap, leave all his inhibitions tethered to the smog-infested streets. He had been flying for years, yet it never ceased to amaze him.

This time, the sensation was different. Something was gnawing at his senses, threatening, prodding. He felt it thwarting a robber's plans for a local bank, at his desk, and during the meeting where White chastised all the reporters who weren't getting a cover story on Superman's remarkable recovery.

"Clark," Lois had said after the meeting, releasing him of his stupor. "Clark, you're spilling coffee all over yourself!" He looked down to find scalding hot Starbucks splattered over his hands and lap, which, of course, did not phase him. Lois didn't know that, though. Frantically, he shot up from his chair, sending it skidding into another reporter's desk and feigning to be in immense discomfort. "Are you all right?" Lois kept asking. "You're so jittery today."

"I'm fine, Lois," he had responded, a little too firmly, a little too like his true self. He saw his fellow reporter's eyes narrow and he knew he'd gone too far. "Just a little burn, no worries," he stammered, propping his oversized glasses farther onto his nose. "I'll be right back. Um…I'm going to go clean my suit off."

He unintentionally stumbled over his own feet on his way to the elevator. There were too many distractions; screaming, shouting, and the furious typing of determined journalists eager to win Perry's respect resounded angrily in his mind. He glanced around once to see Lois still standing at his desk, pretty face etched in genuine concern and puzzlement. He hoped she wasn't questioning the inevitable possibility of his identity too much. She didn't need more stress thrust on her already overwhelming workload.

He needed to escape everybody, recollect his thoughts. Earth was suffocating him. In a rush of blue and red, he soared up the elevator shaft, through the roof door, and into the beckoning light of the sun. As swift as he had exited the Daily Planet, Kal-El slipped like a fiery comet from the earth's oppressive hold and hovered like an ever-watchful eagle over his territory. He calmly exhaled the anxious breath he'd been suppressing since he'd left work, and let his mind bask in the brief silence of the universe.

Where was the Man of Steel expected to go when the world became too much for him? Sure, people escaped to their rooms, to the countryside, or to any other quiet place. The Fortress of Solitude would have appeased him if it hadn't been defiled by Luthor. The only other option was space. It eased his overwrought nerves - at least for a little while. Once he allowed himself to hear the world, it was deafening.

Kal-El clenched his fists as he repressed his ears from listening. He didn't yearn to hear everyone's problems anymore. That's what plagued his thoughts every day. It was the overbearing weight of his responsibility, his _real _job for society. After his return from Krypton, it seemed that everything was going _wrong_. And, no matter how hard he flew, he couldn't save everybody. And yet, everyone expected him to; people shrieked his name, muttered it in their sleep, but he couldn't arrive there in time.

His father had warned him against contributing to human history, but he did anyway. He'd brought Lois back to life, prevented Zod from taking control of America, and eventually, the world, saved millions from perishing in the psychotic schemes of Lex Luthor.

And then, there were things that were beyond his power. Terrible events that had occurred while he was away.

He'd read the old newspapers his mother had left out for him in the barn. He remained silent, registering the horrors that had beaten and continued to affect the world.

He couldn't stop the wars. He couldn't eliminate hatred entirely. People had brought it upon themselves, and there would always be Lex Luthors to continue the terrible legacies. It wasn't his fault if the world was going to hell. He was sent to provide humans an example of wholehearted goodness, truth, and justice.

Yet, how was he expected to influence mankind without affecting its history?

How could he make a difference if humans resisted change or were dead-set on destroying each other's lives?

Shouldn't the world have tried to follow in his example when he was gone?

Sometimes, he watched the television screens from his desk at the _Daily Planet_, numbed by the unfolding events, and forgot that it was his cue to fly off and fight evil. Sometimes, he failed to recall that _he _was the world's savior, and like everybody else, questioned the whereabouts of Superman. It was only until after the terror had passed that he realized the grim reality of it all and his absence had caused hundreds and thousands of people to die. The enormous amounts of blame and what-ifs settled in on his conscience and he felt like collapsing, abandoning everything he'd been taught to accomplish. People complained about suffering the weight of the world on their shoulders, yet Kal-El was feeling the real thing.

Disappointment and anger and guilt wracked Kal-El's mind as he gazed over his home. He was expected to be so _much_ to the people, a beacon of goodness and virtue. He was loved, and yet, he wasn't supposed to return the feelings. He was only…no, not human genetically, at least. Physically and emotionally, yes. That one small difference was enough to keep him at an arm's length from the rest of humanity. It was enough to keep him separated from Jason…and Lois.

Tentatively, he allowed the world to speak to him. He heard the bombs, and the screams, and the helpless prayers for a higher force to intervene. He listened silently, an inconspicuous friend, and shared in their pain. His perfect, invincible composure shattered briefly as tears scorched his brilliant sapphire eyes. So much tragedy. The world didn't need a superman; they needed divine intervention. As he continued to listen, he heard other sounds. Interweaved between the battling were good noises: the innocent laughter of children, the spirited speeches of teachers to their pupils, the cheers of workers as buildings were reconstructed, a mother singing to her baby. There was good, still, in the world. Small acts of compassion were sprouting up across the globe.

"_They can be a great people, Kal-El, they wish to be. They only lack the light to show the way. For this reason above all, I have sent them you…_" Jor- El's words reiterated in his memory.

Kal-El gazed once more at the infinite space, the beautiful silence he had sought often. He'd try to rescue all of them, he really would. If only they knew he was trying his best… He sighed deeply. Then, in a flurry of crimson, he had vanished, a speck symbolizing hope and fortitude catapulting back home.

**Author's Note**: The ending was really rushed. I apologize about that. After delving deep into Superman's mindset, I lost any previous inspiration for the ending. How'd you like the rest of it? Hopefully, I'll post a one-shot about Jason's abilities soon. Review if you want; love to hear what you think!


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